


Snow Day

by borrowedphrases



Category: Ressha Sentai ToQger
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Canon, WriteBet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/pseuds/borrowedphrases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the rain gets cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [WriteBet](http://writebet.tumblr.com/) Day Twenty Two. Prompt Me Friday: [Picture Prompt](http://writebet.tumblr.com/post/93467163460/write-bet-day-22-prompt-me-friday-this-weeks).

When he's not maintaining the Rainbow Line he likes to keep out of the way. Away from people, away from places where there could be people, away from anything he might ruin with his darkness. Old warehouses, abandoned parks, lonely bridges. Anywhere he can rest where he won't be a bother, where his sins won't multiply.

There's an old church on the outskirts of this town, barely more than a ruin now, though not as old as it looks. He's been here before, before when he still had a name, before when his purpose was clear to him. It's been a long time since then, or maybe not, but long enough so that the signs of battle have mostly faded, that the edges of the destruction have dulled. 

He stops by one of the half standing walls to run a wet hand across the stones. There's a great gash there, a scored indentation from an expertly swung sword. It's deep, surprisingly so for what caused it, and there's a bit chipping away at one end of the gash, near where a corner of the wall once was. 

Schwarz's blade, Schwarz's skill. Schwarz's damage to the church that once housed so many happy families during worship and meditation.

But Schwarz's damage didn't compare to the greater destruction of the church, the bulk of it had been done by his own hands, using his skills, his liner.

They had celebrated after, in the smoking ruins of the church, his rain putting out the small still burning fires, steam rising up around their feet from the ashes or their conquest. Schwarz had complimented him, his stern voice softening just slightly, as he scratched gently at the tufts of fur near Zalam's ears, his hand lingering as Zalam leaned into the touch.

He realizes he's closed his eyes, one hand still pressed to the blade wound in the stone, his other had moved at some point, up to his own ear. There's no fur there in this form, but he can almost feel it, or the memory of it, when Schwarz would touch it. Slowly, gently. Possibly the most gentle Schwarz had ever been.

He shivers, but he can't tell if it's from his memories, or from the chill in the air. It's much colder here now, winter instead of summer, and the sun is moving steadily toward the horizon. He pulls his hand away from the wall, drops the one at his ear to his side, and tugs his harmonica out of his pocket.

Now is as good a time as any to continue work on his requiem, with painful memories so fresh all around him. He finds a bit of rubble to sit on, bending one leg at the knee as he leans back against a crumbling wall. The wind blows the rain around him as he plays, and he closes his eyes.

When he gets to the unfinished part he stops suddenly, scrunching up his nose as something tickles at his face. Blinking into the dull light of sunset, he sees white all around him, and great fluffy flakes falling from the sky. Looking out from the church he sees the snow doesn't extend further than the church grounds.

He puts one hand out, and a snowflake falls onto his palm. It rests there for a moment before melting, and he can't help letting out an audible, almost mirthful, little breath. He looks up at the sky and some sensation inside him tugs at the corners of his mouth, making his lips twist up in a way they never have before.


End file.
